Page 11 of Changing Lanes

The hours tick away as we sit and talk. We’ve played several games, but the last hour or so has just been getting to know one another. Torrie must be the most amazing person I know. Her raw determination to become the CEO of her father’s company is awe-inspiring.

Never once did we tire of one another. I’m not even positive when the topic of my dad came back up, but it did. I didn’t hesitate to share this time. Torrie hasn’t been completely open with me about her family, so I just started talking, hoping it would encourage her.

“My dad’s death changed everything, especially me. Who I am as a person is because of him.” I hesitate, grappling with my words. “I’ve worked every day since he passed to be a better man. I fail most days, but I’ll never stop trying.”

My words must hit a chord with her, she wipes a stray tear as she turns her head. She then looks at me, staring for the longest time. Her eyes are glassy with trapped tears. Her nose wrinkles as she holds back her thoughts, making her eyes draw together and her mouth lay in a flat line. I want to say something, but my gut tells me not to. We sit quietly until she tells me what’s on her mind.

“My father is an interesting man, well, to some. He wanted a family but once my parents’ were married, they found out it would be hard to have one, a child that is. They tried several things, but my mother had miscarriages and health issues.

“My mother remained positive, knowing they would have a child one day. My father, the businessman, was skeptical. He became bitter, throwing himself into his work. It became his child, he put it first in every way. Once it had grown, he felt a man would be better suited to run it.

“Well, my father wanted a son. A son to take over his amassed empire and run it one day. They tried for years to have a child, finally giving in to get Invitro fertilization. Suddenly, Mom was pregnant. She doesn’t think it was the procedure.” She drops her head halfway through, her face pinched in what looks like pain as she fights back tears.

“You were a miracle,” I say sincerely but also trying to lighten the moment.

“Don’t say that to my father. I was a girl. Not what he ordered.” She gazes out the window as her tears fall. She disposes of them quickly, pulling herself together.

“So what? They had a girl. I think you’re pretty amazing.” I take her hand, smiling warmly. She lays hers on top, rubbing circles on it with her thumb.

“Well, he wanted a boy. That’s why my name is Torrence. Torrence Wynston Harrington. I think had Mom allowed it, he would have added the third or something.” She huffs, making us laugh as if it wasn’t a true statement, though. I think she’s serious.

I eye her skeptically. “Surely, not? Torrence, huh?” I wrinkle my nose, mimicking hers.

“Yeah. Torrie, for short. It was that or Wynnie.” She rolls her eyes as she pretends to gag.

I burst out laughing, shooting my drink across the room. “I prefer Torrie,” I choke out while cleaning the drink from my face.

“Me too,” she giggles around a yawn.

“I better hit the road. It’s seven in the morning, you need your sleep.” Leaning in, I kiss her on the forehead.

Pushing me away, she teases, “You telling me I need beauty sleep? Smooth, real smooth. And here I thought all southern men had manners.” Unmoving, I resist her. Gazing into her eyes, the blue is impossibly darker. Making them appear troubled, like the ocean during a storm.

“Not in the least, Torrie. If you never slept another night, you would still be as beautiful as you are right now, even in a hundred years.” I lay my hand on hers, still placed in the middle of my chest.

Her face flushes, and she turns away from me. “Stop. You’re making me blush.”

Shocked by her words, my eyes widen, and my mouth hangs open. “You act as though no one has ever made you blush.”

She turns her face back to me and narrows her eyes as she admits, “Rarely. I'm not used to compliments on the regular.”

“That’s a shame. You’re flippin’ brilliant. Don’t act as if you’re not, I looked at your test the other day.” I narrow my eyes at her now. “Besides, I don’t give anyone credit if it’s not due.”

“Well, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. That test was rough,” she replies, her gaze softening.

“You see that, did you? Yeah, brains with rugged good looks. It’s a tough life but hey, I can handle it.” Brushing my shoulders proudly, I brag. She rolls her eyes. Before she realizes it, I have her down.

I push her backward, straddling her. “Did you roll your eyes at me? Really?” Her face is pinched up as if she’s in pain, but I know she’s not. Her mouth hangs open. I’m a little worried, but she answers anyway.

“Ummm, maybe. Yes.” Squinting her eyes, she shifts them from side to side, as if she’s wondering if she did roll her eyes. With her hands pinned above her head, she’s inches from my mouth. I send up a silent wish to kiss her breathless. Inching closer, her lips part and she drags in a heavy breath as she searches my eyes. Half of my wish comes true, and I make her breathless in an entirely different way.

I tickle her, my strong fingers curling and digging at her sides playfully on their own accord. She fights against my hold, wiggling and worming her hips against me to try to get away from me. She laughs, even screams, as I continue working my fingers over her body. Her only relief comes with her last words.

“I’m gonna pee my pants!” she yells with all the air left in her lungs. I freeze, stunned at her words.

“Did you just say ‘gonna’?” I sit in wonderment at her grammar error.

“Yeah?” She scrunches her face and winces, in fear the onslaught will continue.